Foto by tgw, New York City 2011------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Bulletin: HOT DAMN! We're pulling our troops out of Iraq! But guess where the poor bastards are heading--not home, but how about the WAR WITH IRAN, the NEW EVIL threat against We the People of the USA. This will be a nuclear war--that is: IF WE BLOOD-THIRSTY ASSHOLE COLONIZERS ARE READY TO WIPE OUT THESE EVIL ANTI-CHRISTIAN/ANTI-JUDAIC/ANTI-AMERICAN BASTARDS ONCE AND FOR ALL!! [THE OCCUPY WALL STREETERS CAME TO TIMES SQUARE TODAY--they are getting attention--though that attention always tries to find ways to discredit this merry band of pissed off young Americans, though today they were joined by a lot of old bastards and famous folks, too--IT'S GROWING! IT'S MOVING! IT'S THE ONLY THING WE THE PEOPLE HAVE GOING FOR US]--read on...
Bulletin: HOT DAMN, a trumped up reason to go to WAR WITH IRAN--wait a minute, didn't Reagan rig his first win by dealing with Iran? Obama thinks he's Reagan, so...WOW! HOT DAMN! ANOTHER WAR! You think we're broke now! Wait'll this WAR gets going good. Wait'll the Department of Defense asks for 300 billion bucks. Will the Red Chinese financially back us in this war? Will Commander in Chief Obama USE NUKES on these Sand N-word Devils?--these proud ancient people who can't help it their politics and their religion is so intwined and they are ruled by so stupid and so worldly ignorant MEN--WOE IS THE WORLD! All of this because Abraham knocked up his Arab (a Palestinian, we assume) hand-job maid (servant? slave?) and together this odd couple bore that little bastard Ismael and another fairy-tale of competing cultures came into this totally imaginary world of competing man-made deities who still today are wreaking through the militant natures of their true believers such inhumane and cruel havoc on the real world, this heavenly orbit, we human beings's true mother land, mother earth, from whence we sprang--and we did not spring from the semen of one of our man-made ghostly gods--this heavenly beautiful planet that is the only real heaven and should be treated as a paradise before it's too late for us to realize as mother earth's children, we're responsible for taking care of her in her old age--for our mother is dying because our father, the Sun, is dying--and death is simply the price humans have to pay for getting to be men and women and have sex and procreate, as Philip Wylie so analytically put it in his little in-praise-of-Jung book, An Essay on Morals.
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[Please excuse this hastily and mostly unedited posted new edition of The Daily Growler]
Globalization Wins Out Once More to the Detriment of We the People of the US
Those devastating free-trade deals with South Korea, Colombia, and Panama passed through Congress with flying colors and a lot of gleeful smiles on the faces of the richest of the rich and the CEOs of the global corporations--"world" corporations that have no allegiance to any NATION--their global extremities outbound national boundaries--they have their own laws and rules and police forces--they are global corporations and no longer consider themselves bound by any national laws or regulations or taxations. President Obama is simply continuing on what started seriously with Reagan, and continued on through the Bushes, though really blossoming out into Venus flytrap proportions under Clinton, and continued faithfully on now by Reagan-loving Obama. The globalization of the world continues. And it was Slick Willie Clinton who really went hog wild with these free-trade giveaways that President Obama, though they are disastrous programs in terms of our current economy problems, assures us are working on our behalf, even though the free-trade deal with South Korea alone is going to cost We the People of the US hundreds of thousands of jobs and a loss of millions in tax revenues--but oh what a boon to South Korea's automobile industry, its green-energy industry, its television-set-making industry, and its computer-assembling industry.
And adding insult to injury, I read this morning that President Obama has just added 70 million dollars to his campaign kitty, a campaign kitty that eventually will need over 1 billion dollars in contributions to be there during the continuing of this year-long presidential race to the finish line (Obama's presidential campaign kitties have now collected way over a billion and a half dollars). These enormous amounts of money these already millionaires cash in on in order to be seated in the private boxes of our Power Elite (what becoming president assures them) are to me is an insult to the intelligence of We the People, who, from my vantage point, since they don't seem to object to these sums of monies these mediocre men are spending in order to get a job that pays a measly $400,000-a-year--chicken feed to multimillionaire criminals like Mitt Romney (and you don't think he's a crook?--then check out what his business was in Boston that made him even richer than he already was with his inherited money)--are the dumbest most easily seduced and suckered in people in the world. This statement in spite of the Occupy Wall Street effort of those brave mostly young dumb middle-class kids valiantly protesting against our corrupt and totally controlling corporate citizens (and corporations are US citizens and have been since back in the late 19th Century) who are robbing We the People blind through their twisting the nuts of our cowardly Congress while their dickboy, their houseboy, the guy that shines their shoes and kisses their smelly White asses, our President, defends their crookedness and continues to staunchly defend their "too big to fail" rights to rob us blind--telling the Occupy Wall Street bunch that though he understands their frustrations (no he doesn't), we still must keep our financial institutions afloat and respect them--he said We the People must sacrifice our own lives so that these global giants can continue to roam the world wrecking economies while raking in billions upon billions of criminally obtained monies--wrecking the economies of Greece, Ireland, Italy, Spain, Portugal, the USA, with the UK and Germany not far behind--with the glowing approval of Slick Willie Clinton, that Arkie bum, that philanderer, and his two-bit lawyer wife and that gaggle of Clintonistas that have invaded and occupied President Obama's Oval Office--like the ex-CEO of General Electric who Obama chose as his jobs-creation expert--yeah, this jerk creates jobs alright, in Singapore, in Malaysia, in Red China (oh we don't call it that anymore do we, we hypocritical fools), in Vietnam, in India, and now in South Korea.
It would be nice if We the People could unify and throw all these bastards out on their ears--but, no, that won't happen. If we're sort of lucky, Ron Paul will be our next president; if we're our normal unlucky stupid selves, we'll get Herb Kain as our new worthless mediocre-at-best president.
It seems to us, like it always has, that President Obama was forced (through deals with Slick Willie and Hillbilly Hillary when he was shellacking them with his campaign run) to bring into his administration as advisers and campaign managers and members of his supercommittee, the worthless likes of Timmy Geithner (Obama's mother worked for Timmy's father in Indonesia (I keep harping on that) whose job with the Ford Foundation was gotten him by one of his wife's family who was a big shot at Ford--these bastards are all related in more than one or two ways), David Axelrod, the sleazy and stupid Larry Summers, the pig-headed asshole Emanuel Rahm, who now we see used Obama as a stepping stone on his way from a stooge of the nuclear industry right into being mayor of Chicago (really in ways more powerful than the President of the US), and as many corporate CEOs as his advisers advised him to bring on board. Obama, the "Yes, We Can" president of great and hopeful promise (remember, too, he won the Nobel Peace Prize), has lowered himself to being Whitey's dickboy and the White Man's House's houseboy president--so why not replace Obama with an even dumber of the dumbest of Black men?
Surviving, That's All We're Doing
My next door neighbor is a sad sort of man. He's retired though he's still very young looking. He's either Puerto Rican, he has a Spanish last name, or he's Black--or he's both. You see it's hard to tell in New York City just what the hell people are. If they reside in New York City they are New Yorkers, but is that the only thing that makes them New Yorkers? If you are born and raised in New York City, aren't you more a New Yorker than someone who moved here when they were in their mid-twenties and who never left? There are some who claim blood rights to being New Yorkers not just residential rights.
My next door neighbor is overweight. He walks with a cane. A couple of years ago he was on the verge of demise after what appears to be a problem with his taking street-marketed Viagra. You see, like I say, this guy is very young looking. Women, especially Black women, find him very attractive. But it's not just his looks. He must also pack a packed wallet and he must have a very broad-spanning bank account--he is a retired building superintendent--he also is supposedly an electrical engineer. Though I don't think he drinks, he acts like he's drunk all the time.
He comes out of his apartment at odd hours of the day and night. In the hallways, no matter the hour, he talks loudly to himself, language always punctuated with fiercely vile expletives, his favorite being, of course, the world's favorite, "Fuck," and its many variations--a sample of his hallway self-conversing, "God-damn, motherfucker, oooh--ummm, son of a bitch, er-ah, ummm, what the fuck? Well, I'll be god-damn...."
I don't think of my neighbor as being much of a philosopher. In thirty years of living by this human being, I've only been in his apartment one time, and I've never had more than an "Hey, man, how's it going?" conversation with him. He's hard to talk to. He rambles when he does enjoin you in conversation. He mumbles. "How ya doin'?" "Ah, urrr, don'know, same, you know, things come in boxes...god-damn boxes...." He's double-jointed when it comes to conversation. Though I've had hundreds of perfunctory conversations with him over the years, not once have I fully understood his responses. "How's the weather out there?" "Ohh, like--mumble-mumble--crossing the motherfuckin'--mumble-mumble--I don't see that far...." I swear, interpreting his replies is beyond my ability at comprehending.
When I found myself on the elevator with him just a few days ago, I said, "Damn, S. S., looks like you and I are going to die in this building." To which he clearly replied, I mean, I've never heard him speak so clearly, "Hell, next year, we're all going to die no matter where we live."
He was of course referring to Doomsday, December 12, 2012.
Racing Through Life: Racing Toward a Future
Yes, life is a race. It's further defined as "a rat race." Racing rats. Have you ever raced rats? They are unpredictable. Their instinct is to directionalize themselves via smell and not via their "eye on the prize." One could say their "nose is on the prize." You put the cheese (seduction) in the trap, the rat smells it, it triggers off a natural hunger in his belly, and soon you hear the trap snap shut and next you check it out and sure enough, there is a garroted rat freshly dead caught under the steel wire garroting device. (And trust me, I'm an expert at this, nothing in the way of rat traps or mouse traps can beat the original old wooden-based ones with the steel-spring trap device--you put the cheese in the tin tongue gizmo, you cock the trap by pulling the garroting wire back to hook it with care into the tin tongue with the cheese in it, that cheese that is letting off that special stink that drives a rat or mouse batty with hungering desires, and then you go on about your business, confident at sometime in the near future you'll whack the hell out of a rat or mouse. I've recently tried the Tom Cat traps that come with a little bottle of liquid that supposedly gives off that special odor that revs up a male rat's or mouse's testosteronic impulses or sets loose a female rat's or mouse's instinctual desire to get laid. Good idea? Nope. I've got two Tom Cats sitting dormant now for over a year, both chocked full of this sex-enticement liquid, both having never trapped and thus never killed either a rat or a mouse. A live tom cat, a mouser, would be a better buy.)
The Race of Life
All summer long I've watched the Diamond League Track and Field competitions and other track and field events (like the U.S. National Championship) culminating in the World Track and Field Championships held this year in South Korea. With each competition, I noticed, there are runners always showing up for these events who never win a damn thing. There are an average of 10 participants per event--sometimes as many as 15 in the distance events. In fact, in every one of these competitive events, there are always 3 winners, but dozens upon dozens of losers, some racers and field competitors who are never able to get better than LAST place ever!
In every competition, it's usually the same top-3 event specialists who always win. The competition is limited to a top 3 or 4 persons in every event (including the qualifying heats), one of whom is usually the world record holder in the event--or at least, holding the fastest time in the event for the year. Like the 100-meter dash. Without a doubt, the greatest 100-meter-dash man is Usain Bolt of Jamaica (he holds the World's Record at 9.58 seconds). This guy, unless he's stoned or four sheets to the wind or sick as a junkyard dog stuffed full of tainted rat meat, doesn't lose. The only man to beat him this year (and, remember, Bolt doesn't compete in every event) was a Jamaican rival who trains with him down home (the young man who won the World Championship when Bolt bolted too early (jumped the gun) and was disqualified). Yet in every 100-meter event during the whole of the Diamond League season, there are the perpetual losers, those who if they're lucky come in fourth, though there are steady competitors in these races who inevitably come in dead last. And this is true of the field events also.
I marvel at these losers. In the hurdling events especially they are so noticeable, not for their "almost" winning, but for the way they lose. I mean you know the last-place hurdlers almost the minute they're off the blocks--as they approach that first hurdle, which either they barely clear, or they knock down, or, in the worse-case scenario, they trip over and fall to the cinders and are disqualified. And in the distance races, too, there are your "sure" winners (distance races, mens and womens, these days are dominated by Ethiopians and Kenyans), but, and you can usually pick them out before the race starts, there are those in every race (and they show up in every Diamond League event) who you know are going to end up dead last or only a few notches above being dead last. Like there's this US woman distance runner, our greatest Olympic hopeful, who before every race shows confidence that this time she's gonna go it all out and beat the Ethiopians and Kenyans and as the race takes off, she's right up there with the best of them--galloping along just behind the "rabbits," the runners hired by the race events whose job it is to pace the event runners, set the tempo for the races on world's record pace (they don't use the rabbits in world championship or Olympic events))--and this US hopeful runs elbow to elbow with the Ethiopians and Kenyans--looking sharp--staying within a few steps of the favorites--UNTIL..the rabbits drop off the course and the Ethiopians and Kenyans put their pedals to the metal and then back sails this US woman--and back further she sails--the strain on her face and body increasing as the Ethiopians and the Kenyans sprint off up the track toward GLORY, while our US hopeful falls further and further back UNTIL...race is over, same old Ethiopian or Kenyan wins the race, and the same old second-place and third-place Ethiopians or Kenyans come in 2nd or 3rd, and our US hopeful--well, she ends up either last, almost last, or at best middle-of-the-pack, like 8th or 9th.
There can't be much money being made at these events by these losers; yet, they show up at every race--somebody sponsoring them--usually their countries, I suppose--some of these losers are their country's (or nation's) champions. The conclusion: You can't have winners without losers. Another conclusion: There are always more losers than winners in any competition.
I was both a runner and field event competitor in high school. I was fast. I ran the fastest qualifying 220-yard (in the days before meters) dash my final year in track and field; yet when the coach put me in my first full-fledged competition, I got a lousy jump off the blocks, and soon was flying, but flying behind, over-trying, ruining my rhythm, my breathing pattern, suffering anxiety pangs, and coming in a disgraceful 5th out of 8 runners, one of my teammates winning the race, a teammate I had beaten easily during team qualifying trials. As a broad jumper (now called "the long jump"), I jumped consistently around 19-feet 5-inches--a good distance for a high schooler, but a consistently losing distance when it came to competitors who were jumping 20-feet and 21-feet, one little guy from Dallas who could jump 23-feet. As hard as I tried, I could never jump 20-feet; I couldn't improve on my 19-foot-5-inch best; therefore, I was a loser broad jumper. The next year, I dropped track and field and joined the high school golf team, where I also was a loser, but a good loser, a fun loser. My best golf talent? As a teacher. I became a good golf instructor. I got to go to all the tournaments in that capacity--I could see immediately what my better teammates were doing wrong--I was better at this than the coach--and he used me as an assistant coach all my senior year in high school. Later I played awhile on the Texas Pro-Am tour but to no winning avail. In a pro-am match where I was paired with Charles Coody (from my hometown)--Charles would later go on to win the 1971
Masters. After playing a few holes with me, he said to me, "You know, you'd be a damn great golfer except you have no concentration whatsoever. You're looking all over the fucking place instead of concentrating on your game...you're especially hung up on that cute girl that's following us around. You'll find one day that concentration is the key to any kind of competitive success." And oh how true that proved to be--and how Charles Coody hit my problem dead on the head. Concentration is the key to success. Concentration, a state where you blot out everything except the task at hand, whether to hit a golf ball steadily accurately tournament after tournament or whether running at a winning speed race after race or whether winning 20 games pitching baseball or hitting .330 batting a baseball. Individual concentration is difficult no matter the competition you are in. Even that competition we all face in the workplace--in whatever rat race we're entered. Holding one's concentration is the meanest part of being a consistent winner--otherwise with all the worries of the world on your shoulders you're sure to fail. Look how expensive whores ruined the great Tiger Woods's golf career--fucked his concentration up so badly he went from the world's greatest golfer to a common old everyday hacker in a matter of weeks (Golf has been a globalized sport for many years now).
Baseball, though trying like hell to go global--some team owners want to bring Japanese teams into our Major Leagues, hasn't managed, too, yet. The minor league International League once was about as global as you can get with teams in Canada--the Montreal Royals--and teams in Havana, Cuba, the Havana Sugar Kings.
Remember when football tried to go global with the World Football League?--teams in Europe--though that has since fizzled out--our football can't compete with the true global sport of soccer, called football in most world cultures. Other global sports include Track & Field, cycling, swimming, skiing, rowing, cricket, field hockey, weightlifting, gymnastics, hockey, water polo, horseback riding, basketball, etc.
A true American sport: La Crosse.
So We May As Well Get Used to Globalization
Can the world be unified? Probably not, but it looks like our rulers and lawmakers and corporate power brokers and our Power Elite are determined to make us global whether we want to be or not. Get used to shoddy products--like all the clothes that come from China--like even all the computers that come from China--the Apple Mac G5 desktops running Leopard (OS 10.5) for instance (thousands of them were recalled by Apple)--a total failure as a computer since its capacitors were no good and blew up and ruined all your graphics cards and video cards and screen resolution and then caused them to refuse to boot up or when you did get them booted up, they fell asleep immediately not to be awakened. Shoddy products made with the cheapest of plastics and refurbished parts--like hard drives from China are totally refurbished from the millions of junked computers and junked parts We the People of the US send illegally to China every year.
Yes, we're in a mess, but we were warned years ago that this was happening. It's called offshoring now; back then it was called globalization via free trade--the Neo-Con Manifesto (by Paul Wolfowitz--what happened to old Paul, anybody know?) declaring the Neo-Con's goal to drive the dollar down as well as our too high standard of living--declaring products have to be made as cheaply as possible for corporate profits to continue to grow--somebody has to lose in the process and that somebody IS We the People of the USA. We got, as my old folks used to say, "too big for a britches." From the get go, this economics has always been about CHEAP LABOR. And from cheap labor you get cheap goods! But if labor continues to get cheaper and cheaper--one day we'll wake up and our president will announce that the owning of slaves is once again legal...because our new plantations via globalization are just too god-damn big to fail, so we all, men, women, and children, must sacrifice our free lives so that our corporate citizens can continue to enjoy the lives they as Power Elitists feel have been divinely bestowed upon them. Otherwise, why are they so much richer than the wide majority of us?
theburntoutgrowlingwolf
for The Daily Growler
A Little Taste of American Art:
Sarah in the Summertime, 1940, by Tom Lea (1907-2001)
Tom Lea was born and raised in El Paso, Texas. Sarah Lea, the subject of Sarah in Summertime, was a young woman from Illinois who, on a visit to a friend of hers who had married and moved to El Paso, spotted Tom Lea painting a mural in the El Paso post office. It was love at first sight, she told her mom. The mother asked, "How are you going to live on the meager income of an artist?" to which Sarah replied, "You just watch me." Tom Lea climbed to fame in the art world as a World War II army illustrator. After World War II, he became very famous as a painter of murals--murals of his stampeding bulls were especially intriguing--as were his many books that he illustrated himself.
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